If the World Doesn't End
by Revhead
Summary: "If everything goes according to plan, the world won't end tomorrow. But I won't be there to see it. So since this is probably my last night on earth, I'm going to do something I have wanted to do for a very long time." -Dean's last night on Earth. Destiel. Heavy angst, heavy slash. Rated for graphic content.


**I** **f the World Doesn't End**

The bunker was quiet. Dean had retired early and Sam had abandoned his glass of scotch soon afterwards, eyes red-rimmed and voice rough as he bade Cas goodnight.

Cas doubted he would be getting much sleep. None of them would, but they went through the motions anyway. The alternative was sitting in the library, imbibing copious quantities of alcohol and trying to think of anything to say to each other that wasn't goodbye.

The plans were laid. All other options had been exhausted, and beyond these warded walls the world was teetering on the edge of a precipice. They knew what they had to do. They knew the sacrifice that had to be made.

Dean had even said that, deep down, they had all known it would end this way eventually. He pretended to be okay with it, and they followed suit.

But Dean was afraid. Sam was breaking. And Cas felt lost.

He sat quietly on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the wall, willing time to stop so that the dawn would never come. He didn't want to face the sunrise. He didn't want to watch Dean pull on a brave smile or witness Sam hug his brother for the final time. He didn't want to stand there with words stuck in his throat, helpless to express the emotions an angel should never have had the capacity to feel in the first place.

He didn't want to lose everything he had fought and bled and died for.

But there was nothing he could do and time dragged inexorably onwards.

He wasn't expecting the knock on his door.

He startled, scrubbing hastily at his eyes to remove any trace of human weakness. "Yes?"

"Cas, it's me." Dean's voice. Quiet, almost hesitant. "Can I come in?"

"Of course."

The door opened and Cas saw that Dean was still dressed. Back when the brothers had been living from motel room to motel room, Dean had habitually slept in his clothes, boots and all, ready to leap up and face an attack at any moment. Since living in the bunker he had relaxed his guard somewhat; some mornings, pre-coffee, Cas had even seen him wearing a dressing gown. But tonight it seemed he was having no better luck with sleeping than Cas was.

"Is everything alright?" Cas asked. Force of habit. He knew it wasn't.

"Yeah," Dean lied, even though he knew Cas knew. "I just…"

"Can't sleep?"

Dean shrugged. "I figure I'll have an eternity to sleep later, you know?"

"That's not-" Cas cut himself off. Dean didn't need to hear that Heaven wasn't on the table this time. He already knew, and saying it aloud wouldn't make facing the end any easier. "I understand. Is there anything… you need? Or want?" He remembered how Dean had tried to show him a good time when he was the one about to die; maybe Cas should return the favour. "I can – we could go to one of those dens of – um – if you wanted – I mean…"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Are you suggesting we pay Chastity another visit?"

Cas flushed with embarrassment, remembering how disastrously that encounter had ended.

Dean laughed. "No, that's okay dude, we don't want to get ourselves kicked out again."

Cas nodded, but he wasn't sure what else he could offer, either as commiseration or a last hurrah. He reverted to staring down awkwardly at his hands.

"Cas…"

He looked up to see that Dean's expression had sobered.

"What is it?"

When Dean spoke, it was with a nervousness that Cas had never witnessed in him before. "Cas, I've been meaning to…" He coughed, tried again. "There's something I…"

Sensing his anxiety, Cas stood and placed a reassuring hand on Dean's shoulder. "What is it? You know you can tell me anything."

"Yeah, I know. I know that. I just haven't – but I'm going to." Dean took a breath, and his face set with determination. "Cas… If everything goes according to plan, the world won't end tomorrow. But I won't be there to see it."

Castiel's heart thudded once, painfully. Hearing it said aloud made it real. He didn't want it to be real.

But Dean ploughed resolutely onwards. "So since this is probably my last night on earth, I'm going to do something I have wanted to do for a very long time."

Dean leaned into Castiel's personal space. Before Cas could work out what he was doing Dean had pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss.

Cas stood frozen for a long moment, stunned.

Dean tried to kiss him again but when he didn't respond Dean stepped back, a dark red flush creeping up his cheeks. "Sorry. I thought we - but you - it's fine, I mean - just forget I ever-"

Dean was backing away, heading for the door, and Castiel's brain finally caught up with the program. He couldn't let Dean just walk out of here, not when tomorrow he was going to his death, not with so much left unsaid between them. But after all this time he didn't know what to say.

So he snagged Dean's shirt, pulled him closer and crashed their lips together hard enough to bruise. Dean gasped and Cas seized the chance to plunge his tongue past parted lips. He ravaged Dean's mouth, hands coming up to clutch fistfuls of hair and force his head into a better angle so the kiss could go deeper. Dean reciprocated the kiss with equal fervour, thrusting his tongue forward into moist heat and making a determined effort to map out every inch of his mouth. Meanwhile his hands curved around his ass and pulled Cas full flush against him.

The hard press of Dean's body was immensely pleasurable but there were too many clothes, too many layers between them. There was always something in their way, some global catastrophe or argument or betrayal, always something acting to keep them apart. For years this tension had been growing, sizzling in the charged air between their prolonged glances and fleeting touches, but they never did anything about it, always assuming it could wait another day. Until now, until it was almost too late.

Cas growled, deep in his throat. He broke the kiss and shoved Dean backwards. The door crashed closed and Cas pinned Dean up against it, plundering his mouth before shifting to drop opened-mouth kisses along his throat, tasting his pulse and trying desperately not to think about how few beats his heart had remaining.

Fabric got in the way again and Cas stripped the impeding jacket off, tossing it heedlessly to the side before ripping at the next layer, determined to reach the expanse of skin beneath. The t-shirt tore but Cas didn't care and Dean's appreciative groan as the angel's lips closed over his nipple suggested he didn't care either. Cas lapped at the hardening nub before catching it lightly between his teeth. Dean's gasp sent a rush of heat directly to Castiel's groin and suddenly being this close still wasn't close enough.

As though reading his mind, Dean ripped off Castiel's tie before attacking the buttons of his dress shirt and efficiently stripped him of coat, jacket and shirt in one fluid motion. Cas kicked the mound of fabric away and then crowded Dean against the door again, distressed to even have a half inch of distance separating them. Dean responded to the need, pressing in close with his face nuzzled into Cas's neck and legs spreading to allow Cas's knee between them, even as his hands roamed all over the angel's arms, shoulders, back and lower… lower…

Cas revelled in the heat of Dean's chest pressed against his own and the thudding twin heartbeats that reverberated between them, but the feeling of calloused hands slipping under his waistband and the bulge he could feel nudging his thigh were intoxicating. Father forgive him, he wanted _more._

He reached for Dean's belt buckle and felt Dean's hips jerk at his touch. He pulled back, suddenly unsure if Dean wanted the same thing he did.

Dean's eyes flickered open, searching for him, and Cas saw that his pupils were blown wide by lust, rimmed by the just the thinnest band of green.

"Dean, are you sure-"

"Yes," he answered immediately. When Cas took more than half a second to react he took matters into his own hands, yanking off his belt and then making quick work of Castiel's own. "I want this," Dean said, pecking a hasty kiss to Castiel's lips to reassure him. Left wanting by the all-too-brief moment of connection, Cas moved to taste him again, luxuriating in the blend of such incredible, indescribable _flavours,_ so far beyond the jumble of atoms he was used to. He would kiss Dean forever if he could and the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to only made him more determined to plunge his tongue deeper down Dean's throat. It was with a great deal of reluctance that Cas eventually allowed them to part for air, but then Dean shrugged out of his jeans and divested Cas of his suit pants and suddenly all of his focus rushed south.

Dean glanced down at the visibly tented white boxers and licked his lips. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Yeah, I'm sure." Slowly, sensuously, he hooked his fingers on the elastic and pulled downwards, freeing Cas at last.

"Dean- _oh."_

Fingers had curled around him and even as he struggled to remember how to form words the light grip shifted, dragging up the length of his shaft before twisting at the tip and gliding down again. Cas gasped, hips bucking forward of their own accord. Dean chuckled and tightened his grip, repeating the motion but faster this time. It was – it was – _ah_ – good, heavens, it was good. Sensations rippled through him and he had barely enough coherence to remember to breathe, _breathe,_ even as his hands scrabbled to remove the last restrictive layer of cotton that was preventing him from returning the favour.

Flesh. Thick and hard and heavy in his hand, pulsing with heat. Cas cupped it carefully, almost reverently, stunned anew that he was really here and this was really happening.

Something had sparked between them the very first day they met, and Cas had found himself inexorably drawn to this hunter who challenged him, infuriated him, drove him to rebel, took everything from him and yet gave him purpose and showed him the true meaning of family. He was a bundle of contradictions, rough around the edges but open and vulnerable beneath his armour, furious but forgiving, filled with self-loathing but a fierce defender of those he loved, burdened by feelings of inadequacy but unafraid to stand up for what he believed in. He was the bravest, purest soul Cas had ever met and he had been content to have Dean's friendship, even if deep down he had wanted something more.

But here they were, leaving the bounds of ordinary friendship far behind as they hurtled recklessly into new territory, setting a frantic pace because they had _no time_. Cas was beginning to realise that Dean had felt for him all along – that they could have been doing this _all along_ – but they had both been too afraid to take that first step.

Cas had resolved to take his cues from Dean, not wanting to push the hunter into anything that would make him uncomfortable, but now Cas cursed his cowardice. Tomorrow, even if the world didn't end, Dean would be _gone._

This thing between them would be over almost before it had begun. Dean would be dead and Cas would be alone, all alone, for _eternity._

"Cas? What is it?"

Cas had barely noticed that Dean's hand had stopped, but he could read the concern in those green eyes.

Father, but he loved those eyes. They were windows to the most beautiful soul he had ever seen. They conveyed so much more than words ever could. They sparkled with humour and glistened with sorrow and crinkled with fondness and hardened with anger and softened with compassion and shone with love and they were always filled with such _life._

But tomorrow they would stare sightlessly up at the sky.

"Dean-" his voice cracked.

Dean understood in an instant what it was that Cas couldn't say. "Don't do that," he said. "Don't think about – just don't think. Feel. This feels good, right?" He tugged lightly on Castiel's cock and the angel felt a buzz of pleasure rush through him. But it wasn't enough to drown the grief, or the regret.

"Here," Dean offered. "Let me help you with that." His hand closed around Cas's own, tightening his grip and guiding him in a slow dragging motion that mirrored what he could feel Dean doing to him. "See? Nothing to it."

Cas tried to remember that Dean was looking for a 'last meal', as it were. He didn't want a quagmire of emotions, he wanted to enjoy himself.

Silently, Cas vowed to make this night the best Dean had ever had. He deserved that much.

Without warning, Cas pulled out of Dean's grasp and dropped to his knees.

"What are you- oh _fuck."_

Cas didn't respond; he was too busy trying to swallow down as much of Dean's cock as he could.

Above him, Dean made a strangled sound and his hips lurched forward. Cas shut down every human gag reflex he had to let Dean plunge in deeper and was rewarded by a low, guttural groan. He had no experience with this but he had watched a few erotic films and thought he understood the general idea. Cas licked and sucked and bobbed his head, drawing back briefly to lave and suckle at the tip before engulfing him again and repeating the process, faster each time, applying as much suction as he could muster. It was hot and wet and messy and primal and Cas felt his own cock swell in reaction to every deliciously dirty sound that spilled from Dean's lips.

Dean rolled in rhythm with him, a grunt marking each thrust that struck the back of his throat. Dean's fingers carded through Cas's hair, holding him in place and spurring him on simultaneously.

"Yeah – oh, fuck, _Cas,_ fuck that's so – ungh – I – this – Cas – nothing's ever – you just – and I – _fuck, Cas, FUCK."_

Dean's hips began to skitter uncontrollably and all sense of rhythm was lost. Cas only sucked harder and Dean suddenly seized a fistful of his hair, plunged deeper yet and let out a jagged cry. A hot jet of fluid spurted directly down Cas's throat and he swallowed it down without hesitation. It tasted of passion and ocean and _Dean_ and he gladly took every droplet that his hunter had to give.

Once he was utterly spent, Dean's knees buckled. He slid to the floor and then clumsily pulled Cas closer so he could kiss him. "I can taste me on your lips," he breathed. "Fuck that's so hot."

"So I was… okay?"

"Mm hmm," Dean mumbled into his mouth. He spent a few minutes tangling their tongues together before he softened the kiss into something gentler, almost sweet. "I can die happy," he sighed.

Cas stiffened. "No."

"Cas-"

"No!" His vow forgotten, Cas seized Dean by the shoulders, shaking him out of his post-coital haze. "You cannot do this to me. You cannot give me what I have wanted for so long and then take it from me only a few hours later."

Dean tried to shrug him off. "There are plenty of humans out there who I'm sure would be more than happy to bump uglies with you."

"This isn't about sex, Dean."

Dean glanced down pointedly at Cas's erection which was still straining for attention. "Isn't it?"

Cas looked him dead in the eyes. "No. This is about you and me and everything we haven't been bold enough to say to each other. This is about the way you look at me and the smile that lights up your face even when you try to squash it down. This is about the way you demand the best from me and allow me to draw out the best in you. This is about the way you yell at me to leave and grieve when I go. This is about the bond we share and the sparks that fly between us, the way you pray to me and the way your soul yearns when you have no words, the way I fight for you and the way you'd die for me, the way you have broken through my defences and changed me in ways I never could have imagined. This is about the way I feel about you and the way that I'll feel when you're gone because Dean-"

Dean's hand snapped over the angel's mouth to silence him. "No, Cas. Don't." His eyes were pleading him to let this go.

But Cas shoved his hand away, unable to keep silent about this for a moment longer. "You started it. I was going to keep my feelings to myself and stand idly by while you sacrificed yourself to save the world. I was going to comfort Sam and try to find a way to continue on without you. But I cannot do that anymore."

"Sure you can. This doesn't mean anything, it's just-"

"Don't! Don't lie to me. Don't pretend. All we've ever done is pretend and I'm sick of it, Dean. I'm sick of denying the truth. The truth is that I lo-"

"Stop!" His tone was anguished and grief was written all over his face. "Cas, stop. You'll only make this harder. You know that I have to-"

"No, you don't."

"We've been through this. There is no other way. This is it for me, Cas, so can we please just-"

Cas grasped his shoulders tight enough to leave an imprint that would echo the mark he had left the first time he had laid hands on Dean in Hell. He hadn't known it then, but in that moment he had been lost. Hopelessly, irrevocably lost. And even as the logical part of him knew what had to happen, his heart couldn't accept it. Before Dean his life had been so empty; now that he knew what he had been missing, he couldn't face that again. "Don't do it. Don't go. Dean, don't leave me. I need you alive, I need you here. Stay with me, please, promise me you'll stay."

"Cas…" Slowly, sadly, Dean leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "I can't. You know I can't. If I could, you know I'd… but this is bigger than us. Billions of lives are at stake. We can't be selfish."

The greater good. They lived their lives as slaves to this so-called higher purpose and it wasn't fair. Why did the universe have to demand so much from them? Hadn't they given enough? Hadn't they suffered enough? Why did their one chance at happiness have to be cruelly snatched away? They would never know what they could have had together. All they had was this brief moment, these few sparse hours before the sun would rise and Castiel's world would fall to pieces.

Dean gently brushed the moisture from his angel's eyes. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're going to be alright."

Cas just looked at him. "No." He would never be alright.

Dean swallowed. "I'm sorry, Cas. All we have is tonight. But tonight... I'll be anything you want me to be."

Cas wanted to say that one night wasn't enough, that they needed an eternity, but Dean was already moving. He pulled Cas to his feet and gently drew him over to the bed.

"Come on, baby," Dean said softly. His fingers ghosted over Castiel's cock. "Let's deal with this, hm? I can make it good for you. Even when I'm gone, you'll have this memory to keep you warm at night."

Cas didn't want memories, he wanted Dean, real and _here_ and alive and _his._

"I'm right here," Dean murmured. "Don't miss this. Come on, Cas."

Dean lay back and spread his legs wide in invitation.

Cas hesitated, his gut roiling with more emotions than he knew how to process. "I don't…"

Dean caught his hand. "Here." He slid Castiel's fingers into his mouth and swirled his tongue around them, making them slick with spit. "You'll need to open me up first. One at a time."

Cas realised what Dean was saying, what he was offering, and arousal flooded back in. All he wanted was to be close to his hunter and Dean was letting him inside.

Dean slid his hand down and canted his hips so Cas would have better access. Dean guided Cas's fingers to probe at his entrance. "That's it," Dean breathed. "Easy does it."

Slowly, carefully, Cas pushed a single finger past the tight ring of muscle. Dean's body tensed around him but after a sharp intake of breath Dean was consciously relaxing, letting Cas slide the digit in further. "There we go. All the way. Then move out a little and back in, just like – yeah, like that. Good. That's, ah – ungh – good."

Dean's body was hot and impossibly tight but Dean wasn't resisting the intrusion; he pressed into it, eagerly seeking more. Cas couldn't help but oblige him.

"A-another, now," Dean gasped. "Scissor them a bit – gotta – gotta stretch me open – yeah, uh – _uh, gods!"_

Cas stilled immediately. "Am I hurting you?"

"No, _fuck it,_ Cas, I'm not some friggin' porcelain doll, you're not going to break me. Go three. _Come on_." Dean shoved himself down on Castiel's fingers and gave an elated cry as the angle shifted; Cas realised he must have struck Dean's prostate. Tentatively he did it again and was rewarded by Dean arching off the bed, a pleasured groan gurgling in his throat.

Knowing that Dean was enjoying the proceedings made it easier; Cas let go of his reservations and gave himself over to the task, trying to elicit as many of those delightful responses as possible. All the while he was watching Dean closely, entranced by the sight of this man laid bare beneath him in more ways than one. Having rebuilt Dean's physical body after retrieving his soul from Hell, Cas had thought he knew every detail of his form – every scar, every freckle, every edge and every curve – but he had never seen the ripple of his stomach muscles as he strove to retain some degree of control, or his calloused hands clutching desperately at the sheets, or the glisten of sweat on his forehead as he panted, or the way he would catch his lower lip between his teeth to keep from crying out, or the dark flush of arousal in his straining cock. Dean was _beautiful._ God's perfect creation.

"Ungh – Cas – I'm gonna – if you don't – I need you in me. _Now."_

Dean tugged on Cas's wrist, pulling him free and dragging his hand back up to his mouth to have every inch laved once again by Dean's tongue. Dean guided him in a few slick strokes of his cock, bringing him back up sharply to full attention, and then demanded, " _Now."_

Cas adjusted his position on the bed and glanced one more time up into green eyes. They were filled with lust and longing and pleasure and pain and something undefined that Cas thought might have been those words still left unspoken between them.

"Come on, Cas," Dean urged. "Fuck me."

It was a crass and impersonal way to refer to intercourse; Dean was distancing himself even now. But to some, sex was a way to make love to a partner, and if Dean wouldn't let him say it out loud then Cas would simply have to show him.

Cas stared deep into his hunter's eyes, letting the moment drag out in spite of the desperate state of arousal they were both in. Dean swallowed, his frantic haste slowing. Cas leaned over to press a kiss to Dean's forehead, then brushed his lips over Dean's, feather-light, reminding him that this was not just a physical act. This was two people coming together, intertwining body and soul, and to Cas it meant everything.

Dean drew in a shuddering breath. His eyes closed to hide the depth of emotion rising within them. "Please, Cas," he whispered.

Cas kissed him once more and then nudged his hips forward. The tip of his cock found Dean's entrance and slipped in easily. Dean spread wider in unspoken invitation but Cas took his time, pushing in gradually until he was buried as far as he could go.

"Is this okay?" Cas murmured. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Cas. Yeah."

Cas reached out and laced their hands together, gliding the pad of his thumb over Dean's knuckles.

Dean exhaled a soft sigh and Cas knew that the mood had shifted.

Only then did he start up a slow rhythm, rocking in and out, and Dean moved with him, the moon pulling the tide. Their bodies fell perfectly in sync, as though they had been made for each other. It felt right. It felt like coming home.

And Cas, the lonely angel, exiled from Heaven and unsure of his place in the universe, realised the truth at long last. He had been searching for acceptance, for somewhere to belong, for someone to belong to, and all this time he had been missing what was right there in front of him. Dean was his home.

Love swelled up within him, all-encompassing, drowning out every feeling of being lost and isolated and broken and unwanted and unworthy that had come from being rejected from the only family he had ever known. Dean was his true family; the only family he would ever need. Dean was acceptance and trust and faith and joy and love.

And tomorrow all of that would be taken away from him.

Cas gasped and tears sprung to his eyes. He tried to find distraction in the physical pleasure of his union with Dean, the way his hunter clearly was, but his mind would not quiet and the words came out as a sob. "I can't."

"Cas-"

The tears spilled over, splashing onto Dean's chest. "I can't," he choked again. His body was trembling; he couldn't hold this position, he couldn't finish what he had started. Cas pulled out and collapsed to the side, curling around the hot knife of agony that was twisting in his heart. "I can't. I can't have this knowing that I'm going to lose you tomorrow."

A warm hand touched his shoulder. Gently, Dean unwound him and slotted his body in close; reflexively, Cas wrapped the hunter in his arms, burying his face in his shoulder in an attempt to curb the tears.

"I guess this is why angels aren't supposed to care," Dean said softly. "This is breaking you apart."

That's what it was. He was breaking, shattering into a million pieces. His heart had splintered long ago, but now the chasms were widening and he was falling, falling into darkness. There would be no coming back from this. He was ending. Alive for millennia, destroyed because he had refused to listen when they warned him that he was growing too close to the human in his charge.

He had loved Dean Winchester, and in the end it was all for nothing.

"I'm sorry, Cas. I never should have come in here; it was selfish and unfair. I only wanted to… to know what it is that all those people sing about, you know? I've never let myself have this – this sort of connection, with someone I really cared about. Because I knew… I knew it could only end one way. I never wanted to hurt you. I wasn't thinking straight. I just wanted – I wanted to know what it felt like to be in l… to be happy. I'm sorry."

Dean began to withdraw, to pull away, heading for his own room and his cold bed and a blank ceiling and a lonely wait for the end.

But Cas tightened his embrace, refusing to let him go.

What was that phrase the humans had?

 _It is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all._

"Don't leave," he whispered.

"If I stay I'll only hurt you more than I already have."

"I'm already lost," Cas admitted. "But… I don't want to lose you any sooner than I have to."

Dean seemed to accept that, abandoning his attempt to extract himself from the angel's arms. He tucked his head under Castiel's chin, slipped an arm around his waist and tangled their legs together. Despite their state of undress, there were no sexual overtones this time. It was as though Dean could sense how desperately Cas wanted to shelter him in the safety of his wings and was giving him this final chance to be his guardian angel. They lay like that for what felt like an age, Cas finding comfort in the solid weight of his hunter against his chest.

"Are we… cuddling?" he asked finally.

"Mm," Dean mumbled contentedly. "Don't tell Sam; I'll never live it down."

Cas hesitated; he hadn't considered what Dean's brother might think of all this. "You don't want Sam to know about us?"

Hearing the anxiety in his tone, Dean shifted to look up at him. "Pretty sure he's known for a while, Cas. Not much gets past that kid. And sure, he'd take the mickey out of us if he ever heard about this 'chick flick moment' but you know… I think he'd be happy for us." His face fell. "That is, if…"

If they could have any sort of future. If Dean wasn't going to his death in a matter of hours.

"I like cuddling," Cas said quietly.

"Never thought I'd be into it," Dean confessed. "But then, none of this is what I ever would have imagined for myself. I guess I never thought something like this could happen."

Cas remembered staring into Dean's eyes on that first night and realising that he didn't think he deserved to be saved. He could see now, just as clearly, that Dean didn't think he deserved to be happy. Maybe that was why he had denied himself for so long. Maybe that was why he would only indulge in this as the last wish of a dying man.

Cas wanted to tell him that he deserved all of this and so much more. He wanted to spend every day of the rest of their lives proving to Dean that he deserved to be loved.

But the sun would be rising soon.

Heart breaking all over again, Cas leaned in to press a long, lingering kiss to Dean's lips. It was meant to be soft and sweet but Dean arched into him and carded his fingers into Castiel's hair, pressed their bodies together, groaned into his mouth.

When they broke apart Cas was panting and heat had pooled low in his belly. For years Cas had been able to ignore his visceral responses to this man, but tonight it seemed that he had lost all control.

"Last night on Earth," Dean murmured into the shared breath between them. "Any plans?"

"You're propositioning me again."

Dean shrugged. "This is our only chance."

The tears threatened to resurface; Cas wondered if he would ever be able to stop crying once Dean was gone.

Dean tenderly cupped Castiel's cheek. "I'm sorry I waited so long. We've wasted so much time... I don't want to waste what little we have left. Please Cas."

He wanted to, for Dean's sake, but the emotional turmoil was drowning him. "I… I don't know. I don't think I can."

Dean gently rolled Cas over onto his back. "I don't mind steering." When Cas offered no protest, Dean straddled the angel's hips and curled his fingers around his cock.

"Do you remember your first shower after Purgatory?" Dean whispered. "You said you were dirty and went to go clean up." Slowly, he dragged his hand up Castiel's shaft. He was changing the subject, giving Cas something else to think about. "I wanted to go with you. I thought about you in there, stripping off all those layers." He twisted at the tip and dragged his hand down again. "I thought about the hot water cascading over your skin." He tightened his grip and repeated the motion. Up. Twist. Down. Tighter. "I thought about massaging shampoo into your hair and helping you wash your back." The pace quickened. "I thought about my hands roaming all over your body, washing away every trace of mud and sweat and blood, replacing the feel of that god-forsaken place with the feel of my skin against yours." Faster. "I thought about pushing you up against those tiles and making the both of us utterly filthy again."

Cas was breathing heavily, rock hard and jerking sporadically in Dean's hand. Beads of pre-come were pooling at the tip of his cock; Dean bent low to lap them up.

"I wanted to taste you," he whispered. He slowly sucked Cas into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the thick shaft. With cheeks hollowed to provide the perfect level of suction and sinful lips mirroring what his hand had done earlier, he trailed saliva from tip to root, coating Cas thoroughly, then pulled off with a wet _pop._ "I wanted to touch you." He raised himself up onto his knees, positioning himself. "I wanted to feel you inside me."

With that, Dean plunged his body downwards, spearing himself on Castiel's cock. Cas cried out.

"That's it, baby." Dean rolled his hips, driving Cas to the hilt. It was hot and _tight_ , so tight still.

"Dean – _Dean –_ D- Dean…" He could feel tears rolling down his face and he was helpless to stop them, even as waves of pleasure crashed through him.

Dean twined their hands together, pinning Cas against the mattress as he braced for each plunge backwards. "Come on, Cas, come on, baby. For me."

His body was shuddering; with grief, or arousal, or both, he didn't know, all he knew was that this was too intense, there was too much for his mind to process. He started babbling, practically hysterical. "I can't, Dean, I can't lose you."

"I'm here, babe. I'm right here. Come on, babe, just let go." Dean rocked back into him, over and over, little gasps spilling from his lips to accompany every slap of Castiel's balls against his ass.

Cas could only stare up at him, trying desperately to memorise the features of his face. He looked so beautiful like this, flushed and sweaty and so incredibly aroused, but when those eyes met his they were splintered with despair. "Please, Cas," he begged. "Please. I need you. I need you here."

 _I need you._

 _Cas, buddy, I need you._

 _You're family. We need you. I need you._

"Are you hearing me, Cas? Look at me." His eyes were pleading for Cas to understand, to read him, to hear what wasn't said.

Three words.

 _I need you._

Unless… could it be that Dean had really meant something else all along?

Cas gazed into green eyes, hardly daring to believe.

"Dammit, Cas! You – you're going to make me say it – you _fucker._ Cas, don't you know already? Isn't it friggin' obvious? I _love you,_ you stupid son of a bitch!"

The moment froze.

Dean's breath hitched in his throat, as though this was the first time he had dared to voice the truth out loud and it had suddenly become real to him in a way it never had been before. Tears welled up in his eyes. _"Dammit,_ " he choked. "Cas, I love you. Oh god." The declaration broke him, broke the dam. Tears spilled down his cheeks. "I didn't mean to. This was never supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to fall for my best friend but Cas – god, Cas, I love you so damn much it hurts. _It hurts._ "

No. No, no, no, no, no. This isn't what Cas wanted. He couldn't bear to see Dean in so much pain, because of _him._

Cas finally understood what Dean had been trying to do. "I'm sorry." He thrust upwards, startling a gasp out of the hunter.

They couldn't stop what was coming, but maybe they could forget, if only for a moment.

He thrust again, harder this time.

Dean rocked back to meet him.

They both cried out as Cas hit his prostate again and soon they had set a hard, fast rhythm, Cas plunging upwards as Dean slammed back hard. Their hands were clutched so tightly together they were losing circulation but neither cared, too caught up in the heady rush of sensation as each thrust set off an explosion of fireworks.

Cas lurched up to claim Dean's lips and it was sloppy, messy, all teeth and tongues and spit. Heat was burning through them; Cas could feel the pressure building.

He clamped his teeth down on Dean's shoulder, hard enough to bruise, as he gave three brutally hard thrusts in quick succession and then felt something _burst._

Dean threw his head back and let out a muffled cry; in the same instant of his own release, Cas felt a spurt of hot liquid hit his chest.

The universe erupted in a blinding flash of white. They were the only two souls in existence and all they felt was perfect painless pure _pleasure._

Their bodies rode out the shockwaves and the aftershocks and hot blood rushed through their veins and hearts pounded and lungs dragged in heaving gasps of air.

But all too soon the world crashed back in around them.

Dean was shaking and trembling above him, exhausted and overwrought, face streaked with tears. Cas knew he could not look much better.

He slid out of his hunter and Dean collapsed on top of him.

They were both drained, emotionally and physically, but neither was willing to miss a single moment in sleep. They clung to each other as if they never intended to let go.

"I love you, too," Cas whispered.

In response, Dean kissed him.

Outside, the first rays of sunlight spilled over the horizon.


End file.
